


déjá vu

by ikijai



Category: Black Mirror
Genre: Episode: s04e04 Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, post-episode, theoretical, this is literally rated t because i wrote damn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 04:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13227897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikijai/pseuds/ikijai
Summary: Tiny extension of the scene in the bar from the tail end of the episode.





	déjá vu

**Author's Note:**

> Just so it's out there, some of the dialogue is taken directly from the episode because I thought it would be interesting to play with the different aspects of déjá vu.

She’s tuned into the dating app that tells her she’s got a 99.8 percent match with the person she’s about to meet in the bar. _Panic_ by The Smiths plays in the background, thrums in her eardrums like a dare to trudge backward. But she isn’t intimidated, isn’t the least bit wary when she peers up and sees the _one_ through an unending troupe of dancing, drinking bodies.

He’s standing by the bar tap, peering down at his own phone until he’s looking directly at her. In an instant, he's got a smile plastered across his face and it's pure invitation.

They’re watching each other like two individuals who’ve undoubtedly been in the same place before. She’s drawn immediately, is hit with the oddest inkling that she didn’t need to see the picture of him to know which direction to head.

She inhales a deep sigh of relief when she notices that he isn't overdressed, either. _Damn_ , she thinks. His t-shirt probably beats her jean jacket.

She comes to a stop mere inches away, isn't sure which one of them should talk first.

“Oh, jesus,” he utters when he knocks a beer over onto the floor. Despite the incident, he straightens his tall form and holds an unsteady hand out to her. “That isn’t my name, by the way,” he offers. She thinks he’s joking until he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “It’s Frank.”

“That’s quite the relief.” She smiles, pokes him in the side so he knows she’s just teasing.

Then he’s tilting his head, eyebrows knit together just as she thinks the distinctness to his voice isn’t something she’s just been introduced to tonight.

“Your name is Amy, isn’t it?” he says, but his tone is even, not all an inquiry.

“Yeah,” she says, doesn’t try to stop the smile widening painfully over her face as they take a table. She plays along, ordering a pasta dish when the waiter comes by and doing a double take when Frank orders what she knew he would. “How’d you know?”

Frank leans over the table, lip twitching as he lets out an ironic laugh of his own. She thinks it's impressive, the way he's so unadulteratedly _invested_.

“I don’t know,” he says, truth coloring his tone. “I saw you in the doorway and I thought I knew you. It just, uh,” he pauses for an instant. “It just feels like we’ve met before.”

Amy watches him inhale across the table like he’s waiting for her to write him off or end the date, but she does the opposite. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he nods, more sure this time, shoulders less taunt. “I knew I wasn’t going insane.”

“Well, that’s a different thing entirely,” Amy teases. It’s familiar and it’s too easy to play with him when he blushes deep. When he twitches and outwardly tries to think of a comeback before she beats him to it.

“You’re a knob,” he utters, but he’s got his chin in his palm as he dazes at her and his tone is warm.

Amy ducks her head then. Her chest is tight, prepared for this despite the inexplicability of the whole thing.

“This is such an old song,” she utters. “It makes me think of the 80s.”

“Like in the TCKR?” Frank teases, pretends he doesn’t know what she really means. “With all the old young people?”

Amy’d pinch him if there weren’t a table in the way. “Like the _real_ 80s. Discos. Big jackets. Things like that.”

“True,” Frank agrees. “Even our parent’s parents _parent’s_ weren’t around for this one, yeah?”

She tries to think of another joke but inevitably falls shorts due to the drink between her hands. Instead, she utters, “You want to dance?”

Frank’s dread is transparent, but he's already standing up, taking her hand in his to lead her to the open space where other people jive with partners.

“I should warn you,” he utters. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“I’ll teach you, then,” she promises, feels the tremble to his nimble fingers that tells her he’s nervous, but delighted, too.

They sway together for a while, and Amy knows Frank’s dance declaration is true when it’s half him tripping over his own feet and half her throat tightening as she doubles over with laughter.

He teases her too, though. Doesn’t hold back when she takes a jab first.

Still, she disassociates for an instant, thinks of too many people walking in and out and never being tangible. Never being—

“Would it be too odd if I told you it’s good to see you again?” Frank’s voice interrupts her thought when the music slows down and their temples press together. The tremble to him disappears with _Panic_ , transforms to steadiness when it’s a song they know how to properly move to.

She thinks she’s shaking her head, lip between her teeth as she takes it in. Then she’s pulling back to look at Frank while his arms wrap tighter around her torso. “Only if you think it's odd for me tell you it’s good to see you, too.”

Then they’re kissing, soft, slow, then passionate. She wipes a thumb under his bottom lip, feels the increase in his pulse from where her palms rest on either side of his jaw that’s twisting in a toothy grin. She kisses him again because it’s _them_ , because it’s safe and thought provoking and a blatant _fuck you_ to anything that would try to keep them apart. Anything that would toy with them.

“You tired yet?” he asks then.

“Not in the least,” she utters back.

  
They don't dance in the bar long, don't let its walls keep them trapped inside.

“I think we passed some kind of test,” she utters when they’re driving back to his place, worn and excited at the same time. “Like we’ve done this a thousand times and still made it work. That’d be interesting, wouldn’t it?”

It’s dark out, but the twinkle in Frank’s eye is obvious. It’s an endearing thing, a private thing between them that extends far past tonight and an hour together.

“If we did,” he utters back. “I’m damn glad about it.”

“I usually don’t trust those apps,” she whispers, watches trees pass like tall silhouettes in the dark. Then she looks at the time on the dash, watches it tick on and doesn’t feel tension at the prospect of too many hours passing. There isn’t anything holding them back now. “But you’re different. Do you know what I mean?”

She only sees Frank’s profile, but his lips pull back over his teeth in the dorky grin she thinks is the closest thing to a personified home she’s ever known.

“Yeah, I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This episode is incredibly precious and I'm so proud of these two for defeating the system 998/1000 times. Thanks for checking this out y'all.


End file.
